


One Night at Fazbear's Fright

by TtotheCofA



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: AU where FNAF 1 and FNAF 3 are not 30 years apart, I swear Mike is my favorite, My first work for this fandom, completely screws up the timeline but was fun to write, gratuitus abuse of security guards, hope you enjoy it!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:31:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TtotheCofA/pseuds/TtotheCofA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, Mike Schmidt really should have seen this coming. Sixty bucks for just one night? It was too good to be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night at Fazbear's Fright

Michael J. Schmidt was pretty confident that ‘corporate espionage’ had not been covered in his employment contract.

But come midnight, there he was, huddled in an old, creaky wooden chair in a hot, stuffy room with poor ventilation and no doors to speak of instead of a stiff metal chair in a cold, stale room with doors that ran on limited power.

What an upgrade for ten freaking dollars.

….then again, that was ten dollars an hour, paid under the table, for this single six hour shift. That was an extra sixty dollars on top of his usual weekly pay of a hundred and twenty (plus the damned fifty cent overtime for the weekends).

Mike tried to tell himself it was curiosity, not desperation, that made him agree when his boss had cornered him after work with the crazy idea.

Seriously, though. “Fazbear’s Fright”? A horror attraction all about the murder and mystery rumors that surrounded the restaurant chain? That was horribly insensitive - the actual disappearances and murders were barely ten years old! What moron was trying to pull this con while the restaurant was still open??

Leaning forward, Mike leaned on his elbow and poked at the monitor hanging over the desk. It was a slight upgrade from the actual Freddy’s, but the video quality was absolute shit, and the audio was even worse. He’d been given a maintenance panel (introduced by an overly casual phone message left by the attraction owner, who apparently couldn’t be bothered to start off his new employee in person) for rebooting the video and audio systems.

Also the ventilation, which Mike found unnerving. This place wasn’t actually dangerous, was it…? That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The decor was….honestly creepy, even for a horror attraction. Children’s drawings meant to imitate the creative creations of various ages were tacked haphazardly to the walls, as were tattered streamers and paper chains, and strange dark stains seemed to drip from the ceiling to the floor. There were a few animatronic ‘replicas’ scattered about the location - a cheap Foxy mask here, a hollowed out Chica head there - with off-brand LEDs shoved in the eye sockets or jaws. 

The half-rate effort that had been put into this place was almost an embarrassment, and Mike leaned his chair back on two legs and propped his feet up on the desk. This was going to be an absolute cakewalk compared to a night shift at the actual Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Maybe he could talk his boss into doing more ‘recon’ of this place? The owner of Fazbear’s Fright might’ve sounded like a dudebro, but he was a dudebro who paid well.

The young man glanced at the clock at the corner of the desk, and almost groaned. It was barely 12:30am. Ugh…this was going to be a long shift…

……….

He’d had to reboot the video system three times now, and the ventilation system twice. Nothing had moved in the building but Mike himself, and as the red warning light began to flash with the failure of the ventilation yet again, the night guard was beginning to wonder if an extra sixty dollars was really worth it.

“This place is a death trap…” Mike panted, tugging at the collar of his shirt in an effort to make breathing a little easier. Within seconds of the ventilation failing, the otherwise open ‘security’ room began to feel like a closed car on a hot summer day. “This can’t be how they’re gonna operate once they open….one asthmatic kid, and they’ll be sued for everything they’ve got.” The flashing red light finally stopped, and Mike sighed in relief. That thing was starting to give him the headache.

….or maybe it was the multiple close calls with asphyxiation. Either one, really.

A sudden hollow, metal ‘THUMP’ echoed through the office, and Mike froze. He dropped the maintenance panel and turned to the cameras, flicking between them as fast as he could. There was nothing in the hallways or rooms, or even in the vents (who puts cameras in the vents, anyway?), so….what had made the noise?

“Great…” Mike sighed and reached up to massage his temples. “I’m starting to hear things now. That’s a great sign for my mental health.” He glanced at the clock, dreading the glow of the digital numbers. 3:46am. Just shy of two hours left go to. He could do this. He’d done longer and more dangerous stretches at Freddy’s just last week, so these last two hours should be a breeze, yeah?

Hopefully more of a breeze than the first four…..he’d come in expecting to have absolutely nothing to do, and had been caught off guard by just how many mechanical/electrical failures had happened in one night. But, nothing had yet tried to kill him, and by default, that made this the best day of his week.

‘THUMP’

Another loud sound - this time out in the hallway - startled Mike out of his thoughts, and the night guard scrambled to grab his flashlight. Automatically, he began to reach for the door buttons, only to remember that this wasn’t his office at Freddy’s - the room was too big to reach the walls from his desk, and there were no doors to close. Swallowing, Mike switched on his flashlight and stood up from the chair, sparing the maintenance panel one last glance to make sure nothing needed rebooting, and walked to the door.

At the threshold, he stopped, fighting the cold grip of a fearful voice in his mind that screamed ‘don’t leave the office’. This wasn’t Freddy’s. The power wasn’t limited. There were no murderous animatronics lurking in the hallways, just waiting for him to step out of the (false) safety of the security office. This was just a rented building decorated for a cheap scare, and there was nothing out there that could harm him.

Mike Schmidt took a long, deep breath, and stepped out of the office.

He immediately had to click on his flashlight. The buzzing night lighting and strategically placed LEDs did little to actually illuminate the hallway, and only gave it a creepy aesthetic that felt more at home on a low-budget movie sound stage. Mike powered past it and began creeping towards the front of the building.

He’d gotten a brief tour from the janitor who’d let him in, and the layout of the place wasn’t too complicated. Being an attraction that intended to bring people in and funnel them right back out, the map was a large, curving “S” shape, with the ‘security’ office being at the very end. At the end of the first hallway, Mike stopped just around the corner, and panned his flashlight back and forth. Nothing moved, and nothing seemed out of place. The night guard let his shoulders drop, and sighed.

“I’m definitely hearing things.” Mike lamented as he turned around to head back to the office. He was stopped abruptly, however, a mere two steps later, and as solidly as if he’d walked into a wall. The guard staggered back, and quickly swung his flashlight up to illuminate the intruder. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Towering over him was an animatronic that should not have been there. He almost mistook it for Bonnie, but rather than purple, its costume - rotted and pitted with so many holes it was a miracle it still hung on to the frame - was a nauseating shade of mustard yellow. Wires and broken cables were poking out of its limbs and joints, and one ear had been shorn off near the mask. The costume’s shins had rotted away, exposing rusted endoskeleton beneath, and what almost looked like…shriveled muscle.

The eyes beneath the mask were too human, and Mike felt his stomach churn over as they bore into him, searching him up and down in a mixture of curiosity and excitement. The night guard made to step back, just to get a little space between them, and the animatronic jerked after him. One of its cold, grimy hands clamped around Mike’s jaw, silencing his cry of terror and jerking the young man back towards his captor.

The animatronic tilted its head, still examining its catch, and seemingly unfazed by the flashlight being smacked against its head in a panic. However, the waving light quickly became annoying, and the monster tightened its grip on the human with a raspy growl. Mike made a small whining sound through his clenched teeth, and immediately fell still. In the distance, he heard an alarm go off, and saw a red light flash at the distant end of the hallway. The ventilation system had failed again. 

The animatronic straightened up at this noise and turned to look behind it, still holding Mike’s jaw in its iron grip. The night guard grabbed awkwardly at the grimy hand, trying to pry its fingers loose without dropping his flashlight. His teeth were starting to creak from the force of the grip, and Fazbear Entertainment didn’t provide dental. Funny, he realized dimly, how that was his greatest concern right now.

Another raspy growl stopped him cold, and the animatronic turned on its heel and began marching down the hallway, forcing Mike to scramble along backwards or risk hanging by his neck. It moved with almost no sound besides the scrabbling of the terrified night guard, and Mike idly wondered how long this thing had been running around without his notice. They reached the end of the hallway, and the animatronic wound up a little before bodily throwing Mike back through the doorway. The guard smashed into the chair with a cry of pain and sank to the floor, jerking his arms up to shield his head in preparation for another blow.

_“Fffiiiiiiixx…”_ Mike’s blood ran cold, and he slowly looked up at the animatronic towering over him. It…it talked?! The mask seemed to take on an angry expression, and the monster reached down and grabbed the guard by his tie, hauling him up by the accidental noose with the ease of lifting a feather. _“FFFIIIIXX.”_ It insisted, stabbing one finger up at the blaring alarm sound and flashing red light.

“F-f-fix?” Mike parroted in a voice several octaves higher than he would have liked. “Y-you want me to f-f-fix that?” The animatronic responded with a snarl and a nod, and Mike’s hands began to scramble for the maintenance panel. “O-okay! Okay! I-I’ll f-f-fix it!” With shaking hands, he jabbed at the buttons, as if pressing them multiple times could reset the system faster. When the light and sound didn’t immediately stop, the animatronic screeched,

_“FFFIIIIXX, NOW!”_ Mike wailed in response and felt his heart leap into his throat. 

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” He begged, gasping for breath around the thick air and the tie yanking on his neck. He’d never expected to find himself missing the familiar shadows of Freddy’s Pizzeria, but there he was. “It takes a second!” Finally, the ventilation system rebooted, and the stuffy air began to thin. The animatronic let go of his tie, and Mike took in a gulping breath, marginally relieved that he wouldn’t die of suffocation.

Then the creature grabbed his face, and slammed his head back into the wall.

Stars exploded behind Mike’s eyes, and his body went lax His attacker released him and watched the guard slump bonelessly down to his knees, and then to the ground at his feet. One large, sharp-toed foot nudged the guard onto his side, and then rested on the slim chest, and pressed down lightly. Mike whimpered, feeling his ribs creak from even this light pressure, and tried fruitlessly to push the offending limb away. But the world was spinning, and he couldn’t coordinate his limbs, and all he managed to do was squirm pitifully in place.

The animatronic leaned a little harder on the guard, driving the wind from his lungs with a pained grunt, and bent down to one knee. Mike felt a tug at his neck as the creature grabbed his tie again, and slowly pulled on it, forcing the man still trapped beneath his foot to bend his neck up at an awkward angle. It tilted its head almost curiously as the guard stared back with wide, blue eyes, and gasped for air like a dying fish.

_“Yyyyou’re alone…”_ The animatronic rasped. A hot puff of air came out of the mask, bringing with it the putrid scent of decay, and Mike gagged. _“Sssspringtrap is alone, too….”_ Its other hand came up to pat Mike’s cheek almost sympathetically. The young guard couldn’t breathe well enough to muster up a voice. _“Springtrap can fffffiiiixxx thaaaaat…”_ The animatronic - no, Springtrap - leaned its weight heavily on Mike’s chest, and the young man cried out in weak, breathless agony as a number of his ribs cracked and broke under the pressure.

Springtrap stood up, and lifted its foot off of the guard, but Mike made no move to run. He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe and no matter how much he gasped, his lungs wouldn’t fill. He felt flattened - like a cartoon character run over by a steamroller - and even though the weight of the metal suit had lifted, he still felt as if it were crushing him. He could only lay there, gasping, and then choking, as some sort of fluid began to work its way up his throat. With a hacking cough, Mike spat up a trickle of blood, and he realized with a cold pang that he was dying.

Frustrated tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down his face as Mike’s breathing grew shallower. He’d always expected to die at Freddy’s, or somewhere Fazbear related, but not at a half-assed horror show like this. He probably wouldn’t even be found for a few days; this attraction wasn’t set to open for another week, and from what he’d seen already, the owner didn’t visit much. God, this would probably traumatize that poor janitor. He seemed like a nice guy, and Mike felt bad…

Huh. Feeling sorry for the person who had to discover his corpse. Priorities, Michael.

His thoughts turned to his family, and the dying man let out a tiny sob. He still had Lynn’s homework in his bag. It would be soaked in his blood and illegible by the time it got back home. He couldn’t give it back to her like that. And his mother…god, what were they going to tell his mother? Not the truth. No-one would ever believe the truth, would they? He was just going to be another unsolved murder tied to the Fazbear name-

Something screeched across the floor, and the night guard managed to regain his focus in time to see Springtrap moving the desk across the floor. This task done, the rabbit moved to the box sitting in the opposite corner, and began digging through it. It discarded mask after cheap cosplay and paper plate mask, looking for something specific. Mike had a sickening feeling he knew what it was, but was surprised to realize that he didn’t feel afraid. After all, what could be worse than slowly drowning in your own blood?

Near the bottom of the box, Springtrap found what he was looking for, and straightened back up. He turned towards the dying night guard, holding a mask in his hands, and Mike’s stuttering heart fell. He tried to protest as Springtrap knelt down beside him, and slipped one arm beneath his back, forcing the young man to sit up. Something warm and slick splashed down into his lap, and Mike felt sick.

Springtrap ignored his distress entirely and slid the empty Freddy Fazbear mask over the young man’s head. Mike’s vision darkened as the mask covered his eyes, and then it darkened completely. The night guard gurgled once more, one hand twitching in a last ditch effort to cling to life, and then he stilled. His murderer lowered him back to the ground, visibly pleased with his work.

_“Remember to ssssmile….”_ Springtrap advised the empty air, its voice dry with age, and underlaid with a necrotic wheeze. _“Yyyyou’re the fffacccce of Fffffreddy Fazzzzbear’sss Pizzaaaaaa…”_


End file.
